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Author
Topic: I'm a date rapist (Read 3424 times)

Short version of the story: A guy, roughly my age, contacted me through poz.com since he was passing through the small town in which I live. We agreed to meet for lunch, with no presumption of sex on either side. Lunch was pleasant, conversation was good; we had a good laugh over the fact that my hand was broken and that he has a slight limp because of recent surgery on his ankle. "What a pair of gimps!"

Conversation continues for several more hours, much of it about HIV-related stuff. (Yet another person who couldn't remember exactly what his med combo was, or his numbers.) We go out for early drinks, slice of pizza, then split another bottle of cheap wine. He's too drunk to drive and asks if he can crash at my place. Sure. No sex on my mind, not because I'm asexual but because he'd been salivating over pictures of football players and rugger buggers earlier, on outsports.com I think; I don't fit into the over 220 pound category.

Anyway, we get home, I start getting the couch ready. He sees my bottle of Vicodin (this was just two weeks after my wrist fracture, so I was given it for some pretty excruciating pain), picks up the bottle and says can he take one. I say, hmmm, probably not a good idea with booze, but if you want to, go ahead. He takes two, not one, and pretty soon passes out. Predictably. On my bed. I'm exhausted and follow suit, sleeping soundly.

Next morning, he wakes up, throws up, says he feels like shit, sleeps some more, then says thank you, and leaves. Later that day I get two emails from him. In one he says: "If you wanted to use me and humiliate me, couldn't you have given me a drug that wouldn't have me throw up the next day?" In another: "I resent being made to feel like I'm someone's sexual toy. But I guess I'll never know what you did to me last night."

WTF?! I'm in shock at this point. And then very upset. I may have erred in letting him take the Vicodin, but that was it. I try to call his cell, but get voicemail.

Decided not to reply; he could have used any reply, in which I acknowledge that he did in fact take a prescription drug (with street value) that was meant for me, against me in some crazy, unpredictable way. He hasn't written any more. I certainly have no desire to initiate contact. And I sure hope that that's the end of that.

OK, that wasn't so short. One of the weirder things that's happened to me in recent times.

Jay

Logged

Her finely-touched spirit had still its fine issues, though they were not widely visible. Her full nature, like that river of which Cyrus broke the strength, spent itself in channels which had no great name on the earth. But the effect of her being on those around her was incalculably diffusive: for the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs.

It's always best to tell anyone who asks: "Sorry that is my medication prescribed for me". If he doesn't have his own let him go to a doctor. I guess I am a bit older now but I can't imagine letting anyone come home with me I didn't know for a while, it's too potentially dangerous.

Logged

"Wake up to find out that you are the eyes of the world". "Try to discover that you are the song that the morning brings."

"Many people, especially in the gay community, turn to oral sex as a safer alternative in the age of AIDS. And with HIV rates rising, people need to remember that oral sex is safer sex. It's a reasonable alternative."

Thanks, guys. He's loony alright. I guess what freaked me out was that he seemed so "normal" earlier. (Sings Chuck Berry: "C'est la vie, say the old folks," -- that would be me -- "it goes to show you never can tell.")

Her finely-touched spirit had still its fine issues, though they were not widely visible. Her full nature, like that river of which Cyrus broke the strength, spent itself in channels which had no great name on the earth. But the effect of her being on those around her was incalculably diffusive: for the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs.